I started season of mellow fruitfulness mainly as a writing exercise, to get myself typing instead of thinking and to allow other people to read what I wrote. When I started I set myself a few rules – don’t talk about having ME/CFS, don’t set posting targets and never apologise for not posting for ages.
I’ve stuck to the last one, I think, and I didn’t set any public goals, though I did set some private ones from time to time. Writing about my experience of having ME/CFS crept in as it became clear that the hopes of recovery that I had when I started were not going to be fulfilled.
It’s been fun, a good learning experience and I’ve “met” some lovely people along the way. But (you could see the “but” coming couldn’t you?) it’s now time to wrap it up, to say a big thank you to followers, commenters and supporters, and to move on to something else.
I had intended to keep going with this blog until I had a follow-on lined up, but over the last couple of weeks I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to do a bit of space clearing before I start whatever comes next. I have several ideas, but I need some time to play around with them to see what emerges.
Feeling that I “ought” to write a post on here when I’m no longer mentally engaged with the project causes a small, but unnecessary drain on my creative energy. I mention it just in case anyone reading is mulling over a similar decision – if whatever it is has run it’s course, let it go and stop the energy drain!
Thank you all again for sharing this venture with me and best wishes to you all.
I had a good stretch of unbroken sleep last night, the weather has been cooler this morning and the neigbourhood is, at least for now, blessedly quiet. A pleasant spell of peaceful respite before the bank holiday.
There are many compensations for the trials that summer weather brings to my ailing body, sweet scented full-blown roses being just one, and when I’m not frayed to bits with weariness they give me much pleasure.
Sadly, although I felt better this morning than yesterday morning and I have crossed a few tasks off my list, my energy is going now. I can feel my muscles starting to seize up and a headache brewing. It’s time to take some painkillers and rest again…
To be honest I hate it. The heat is debilitating in itself, especially with such a sudden change from rather cool to very warm. Opening windows to let in what breeze there is also lets in the sound of traffic, lawnmowers, power tools, children playing, outdoor conversations, music, burglar and car alarms, adults partying, seagulls screaming, cats yowling etc etc.
The more exhausted I am the harder it is to rest. I’m writing this because someone is cutting a lawn nearby and the uneven whine of the mower is driving me nuts. I’d rather be lying on my bed, but it too hot up there with the windows closed, so I’m marginally more comfortable sitting downstairs. Though I can still hear the bloody thing even with the doors and windows shut.
The more exhausted I am the harder it is to ignore irritations and getting irritated makes it even harder to rest or to organise irritation-mitigation strategies. I’m pretty much at the end of my rope at the moment, but I will get past this, no matter how many days of living at basic ME/CFS survival level it takes. If nothing else, the weather will change, even if not until autumn!
In the meantime I must grab what rest I can, when I can. The lawnmower has stopped and I’ve hopefully got a few hours of relative peace and quiet until 3:30pm when the football-kicking starts… Bah humbug to hot weather and noise!
I didn’t see my doctor yesterday because a random mutation in the appointment system meant that what I was told on Monday no longer applied. But I did get an appointment for next Tuesday. At a time of day that suits me. So that’s good. As long as I don’t forget why I made the appointment, which I’m inclined to do once I feel better. And I was very glad not to have to get dressed and go out yesterday because I had a filthy migraine to top out my misery.
But the good news is that I woke up this morning with only an ignorable amount of pain and feeling more like my “normal” self. Which is not normal as in healthy, just “not feeling too shitty to function except at the most basic level”. So today’s challenge is to restart from when I was forced to pause on Monday morning and NOT to try to “catch up” on all the things I would have done had I not been in collapso mode (plus a few that I merely imagine I could have done if I hadn’t been so poorly).
Which is what “pause and restart” is about. One of the toughest lessons I’ve had to learn over the last few years is that I cannot “catch up”. And that trying to do so generally results in me achieving less rather than more. When I have to take a pause it’s not as simple as just picking up where I left off as soon as I feel better – some plans are date-dependent and it’s just not possible to arrive three days late for a party or other one-off event. It’s hard to shrug off such disappointments, but it has to be done – grieving over such things uses energy that can’t be spared. Getting angry about what you can’t change is like burning the money in your wallet because your mobile phone has been stolen.
Other things shift in priority. For example, food shopping may be delayed for several days, but not indefinitely. I try to always keep a good store cupboard and plenty of no-effort food in the freezer, but sooner or later shopping has to be done. Ditto anything to do with finances – I pay most bills by direct debit so I don’t get caught out by late payment charges if I’m not well enough to keep up with things, but I still have to make sure that there’s enough money in the account to make the payments. So what wasn’t urgent when I paused may well be top priority when I restart.
Which makes planning anything at all difficult. Basically, most of what I plan has to be provisional, depending on how I feel on the day. I used to get terribly anxious about fixed-date-and-time events whether they were enjoyable or not – I hate cancelling things at the last moment and being unreliable. But I’ve learnt, slowly and painfully, to just wait and see. Stressing about whether I’ll be able to go meet with friends or get blood tests done or see an exhibition before it ends actually increases the likelihood of a sleepless night and failure.
I’ve got loads more to say on this subject, but I need to pause now and rest, then get on with things that are probably more important than blogging about my life-management problems. Though I’m thinking that it might be worth writing down some of what I’ve learnt over the years about managing the challenges of chronic ill health in the hope of helping other people. Incurable Optimism strikes again and I add yet another possible project to my already immense list!
And where is that?
In bed, in pain and jolly pissed off.
As you may know, I have ME, which is a chronic, fluctuating condition with a myriad of symptoms. I’ve had it for at least 16 years and you’d think I’d have learnt by now that a spell of feeling a bit better than usual DOESN’T MEAN I’M CURED. But the incurable optimism (IO) that I can beat the illness just won’t lie down and die.
So what happened?
Last week I had a relatively good week – a couple of late nights, all goals achieved plus a few extras and I was feeling on more or less on top of the necessities. I even made some progress with things on my “when I have some spare energy” list. Which was very nice indeed.
Then the blasted IO kicked in. It was the monthly open day at the local community garden on Saturday and despite feeling somewhat weary, I went along and actually did some work! (I usually just visit, if I manage to get there at all). I knew I was pushing it a bit after a busy week, but IO whispered in my ear that I’d be OK, all those years of illness WERE all in my mind, I’m CURED now and I can do NORMAL things. Well, the sort of thing that feels normal when your life is, in fact, very abnormal. I did about 45mins weeding and half an hour’s chatting. Which is A LOT by my usual standards and after a restless night.
And it was great, I thoroughly enjoyed cutting back nettles that were encroaching the entrance path and carefully removing bindweed from a clump of cuckoo pint. Not to mention taking a few photos and talking to various other volunteers and visitors. It was wonderful to be outdoors digging in the dirt on a sunny May morning. Normality. How I crave normality.
I spent the afternoon sensibly resting, chatted to a friend on the phone, had supper and planned an early night. Then the neighbours lit a barbeque… When they’d finished eating they started burning wood from shrubs they’d cut down months ago and sat chatting until nearly midnight. Which I have no doubt was a lovely thing to do when you’ve been at working hard and it’s the first sunny weekend in weeks. I couldn’t begrudge them their fun. But it did mean that my bedroom was (even with the windows tight shut) too full of smoke and noise for me to contemplate going to bed until they did.
I try to go with the flow, stuff happens and it’s no good getting ratty about it (that just consumes more energy), so I accepted that Sunday would be a write-off and I stayed up surfing the net, watching 80s music videos and eating the contents of the fridge (overeating can compensate for fatigue in the short term). I enjoyed it and chose not to dwell on about the likely consequences of failing to rest when necessary. IO told me that as long as I was sensible and rested properly on Sunday I’d be fine – I had a great week, what was one more late night? Late nights are fun – they are normal. And I was only sitting on my arse clicking a mouse – not exactly strenuous activity.
I slept OK, had a restful Sunday and felt quite pleased with how well I’d coped with the unexpected event. Time was when I would have been beside myself with rage at having my routine disturbed by noisy neighbours, but I’ve gradually developed a Zen-like acceptance of shit I can’t control. IO was in full flow!
Am I boring you? Having ME is boring – you have to micro-manage every aspect of your life whilst trying not to become a neurotic over-anxious control freak.
So, back to the story. On Monday morning I felt a tad groggy, but I’d slept reasonably well and dear old IO was telling me that all would be well, I was CURED, doing MORE would be good for me, think positive, push those stupid limiting boundaries, it’s all in your mind, just do it. Etc.
It was a bright morning, but rain was forecast and the scruffy patch of grass near my back door needed strimming. The landlord’s gardener cuts the lawns, but he won’t touch the grass that grows through the crumbling concrete by the back door in case a stone flies up and breaks a window. So I have to do it. It’s not a big job, 20-30 minutes including preparation and clearing up, but it’s hard work for a weed like me. Still, IO was cheering me on, and I manage it OK a few times a year don’t I? Just a quick burst of exertion and it would be done before the rain came and not reproaching me as a job undone every time I looked out of the kitchen window.
Well I did do it. It took less than 30 minutes (I wasn’t really timing it, but, really half an hour max) and by the time I’d finished I was in such pain I could hardly move. Quite scary pain considering one of the key features of ME is that pain and fatigue are delayed by 24-48 hours after exertion. This pain in my joints and muscles had immediate and quite vicious onset. I immediately took some ibuprofen, but I could only move using will power until they kicked in. I spent most of the rest of the day lying on my bed apart from essential forays for drugs and food, and going to the loo.
In my case the delay from exertion to consequences is usually about 36 hours. This is my “normality” – if I overdo it (and that’s not difficult), it catches up with me a day and a half later. Ish. Up to a point I can plan my life around it, but it’s impossible to completely avoid overdoing it if you live alone and want to have a life that doesn’t totally revolve around your heath issues.
Events tend to overlap so I might be expecting a mild, but manageable, period of malaise from one event and then have to react to an unexpected event which compounds and prolongs the first malaise. Or I just overdo it a tiny bit several days running, then crash for no obvious reason. Or, and this is where I am now, I have a run of good days when I appear to get away with doing more than my usual baseline of activity. Which is when the IO that I’m cured at last tends to kick in…
The more overdone I am the longer it takes to recover, and sometimes one event runs into another and it all gets horribly tangled up. When that happens all I can do is accept that IO was wrong (again) and retreat to basics (rest, food and what personal hygiene I can manage – it’s not pretty!). What scared me this time round (enough to make me plan to see my GP asap) is the change in severity and onset of symptoms.
There’s no cure for ME and recovery for someone of my age and in my situation, whilst not impossible, is unlikely, so I don’t usually bother seeing my doctor except for routine tests and prescriptions. Apart from anything else it’s difficult to make an appointment. I’m lucky to be on the list of a good GP who is not unsympathetic to ME patients, but his working hours are of the “every third Monday, unless it’s a bank holiday, in which case it’s Tuesday, and Thursday afternoons, except when he’s on holiday or on a training course or it’s a full moon” variety. He’s duty doctor tomorrow so, if I can get through on the phone between 8:00 and 8:05am before all the days’ appointments are booked, I’ll see him tomorrow. If not, I can choose between seeing a random doctor or waiting for an indeterminate period of time (Dr is on holiday for the next two weeks).
Are you bored yet? I am. Well, maybe not bored, just a bit sick of dwelling on the dreary details of Life with ME, but I think I need to get this stuff out of my head. If you are still reading, thank you. Having ME is boring, mostly I prefer to concentrate on the non-ME aspects of my life, but today I’m stuck in bed and feel like telling it like it really is for a change. And this is still a sanitised version. I haven’t (yet) mentioned the fact that I’m well overdue for a bath and hairwash, but it was buy food or have a bath this morning and I chose food. And yes, I know you can have groceries delivered, but in my experience it’s less stressful overall to go and do my own shopping than to shop online. Home delivery is for when I’m past caring whether they bring the wrong kind of pears or the yoghurt is short-dated.
IO is still busy – it’s telling me that it’s OK for me to write this because I’m resting on my bed, it’s not physical exertion and I don’t really feel nauseous with fatigue (well, writing helps me ignore the nausea). And if I feel well enough to go to the doctors tomorrow (and if that sounds daft, fellow Spoonies will know what I mean), IO will probably try to convince me that I don’t really need to worry about the increasing bouts of increasingly unpleasant pain I’ve been experiencing lately and that I’d be better of using the time for something more interesting (or just having a bath and washing my hair). After all, it’s probably “just” a progression of the ME combined with aging, and if I’ve developed some other ailment, maybe I don’t really want to know yet. But I do need another prescription, which is not allowed on repeat – I have to see the doctor so he can confirm that I haven’t become a raving junkie as a result of taking 50 odd diazepam tablets a year. Sigh.
Still, that old IO keeps me going really – life would be bleak indeed without the hope that one day I will be completely well again, but as I’ve been writing it’s occurred to me that although I’m pretty good at managing the bad stuff I also need to learn to manage the IO. It’s heady stuff, optimism, and on balance I’m glad it’s incurable, but like chronic illness it needs to be tamed a bit, so it doesn’t lead me into bad places. It’s good to feel better, but I really, really need to learn to let it happen slowly, to enjoy the feeling of making progress without getting carried away and falling off the mountain. Again. Wish me luck, and thanks for reading, if you’ve got this far. Useful hints and tips for taming IO welcome in the comments section 🙂 .
It was yet another a wet and stormy day at the end of the wettest April I can remember. I felt ill and weak and sick and tired of wind and rain. A boring bedrest day of deep melancholia. But late in the afternoon the skies cleared, the wind dropped and the sun came out. I opened the back door to feel the unfamiliar warmth and survey the wind damage.
In the grass near the back door I spied a piece of bright yellow lichen washed off the roof by the torrential rain. I thought of my version of The Quince Tree’s multitude of small delights and decided it was time to make another collection. Slowly and carefully because of my throbbing head and feeble energy, I took a walk round the garden collecting colourful small delights to arrange on my nature table by the back door.
Just half an hour of gentle focused activity transformed a miserable lost-to-illness day into one with a small, but intensely happy memory of achieving something creative. The wind and rain returned that night and wrecked my careful arrangement, but that’s OK – what is really important is the process of doing, not the end result.
The pictures don’t begin to convey the sheer pleasure I experienced that afternoon, so, if you haven’t wandered round your garden collecting “treasures” recently, please, do make time to create your own nature table (or whatever you like to call it) soon…
Regarding my previous post (18th April) about Mason bees: Having seen a lot of similar-looking bees when I visited a branch library I don’t usually go to yesterday, I now think I may have misidentified them and that they are in fact Hairy Footed Flower bees.
The Wiki entry says:
The females usually lay eggs in a nest equipped with cells excavated by themselves in clay slopes and steep walls of mud.
The bees at the library were making holes in the earth of some raised flower beds which are being left uncultivated for their use. The bee using the hole in my wall could be an adventurous opportunist saving herself a lot of digging by using a pre-made hole!
I suppose it doesn’t really matter what kind of bee they are, the main thing is the pleasure I get from seeing them. And wondering whether and how bees classify non-bee creatures…
Given that my own use English is far from perfect it seems a bit churlish to mention that Hairy Footed Flower bees clearly aren’t “unique” to Goring Library, but it is a shame to see such misuse of words on a notice displayed at a library!